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But I refuse to touch her.

Not until she chooses this.

Chooses me.

I take one step toward her. Then another. And another until there’s hardly a breath separating us.

Even then, I keep my hands at my sides.

“Tell me,” I demand, my voice gruff.

She shakes her head. “I don’t⁠—”

“You said your friend’s been encouraging you to do things you want. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you kissed me. So tell me, Wynter.”

I lean closer, and her eyes drop to my mouth, the space between us microscopic. Charged.

Alive.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

The seconds stretch as I wait for her answer.

Every muscle in my body screams at me to close the distance. To kiss her the way I’ve wanted to for years.

But I don’t.

Even though it’s killing me to be so damn close to her lips.

Finally, she tilts her head, her mouth skimming mine in a light touch that ignites every single nerve ending.

“Yes.”

One word.

One syllable.

But it hits me like a bolt of lightning.

“Then do it, Wynter. Take what you want.”

She pulls back, several tense moments passing between us.

Then she grips the back of my head and crashes her lips against mine.

This time, I don’t stiffen. Don’t hesitate.

I kiss her like I’ve spent years starving and she’s the first thing I’ve been allowed to taste.

Like she’s the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins.

Like something inside me has been asleep for years and she just woke it up.

Her mouth moves against mine, hungry but uncertain. But a heartbeat later, she deepens the kiss, her tongue sliding against mine.